


The Last Goodbyes

by tangofox



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Drabble
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 12:02:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3380792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tangofox/pseuds/tangofox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rhaegar was the sort of man who believed goodbyes were for those who lacked imagination, who had no hope or spirit. He liked to play a game as a child, use it as an insult to those he particularly disliked. He would bid them goodbye, secretly hoping that he would never see them again. As he grew older his goodbye’s became more sincere, and with one or two people he prayed for the opposite, that he would see them again soon, that their parting would not be the last time they ever saw each other. In the last days of his life, Rhaegar had the chance to say goodbye to ten people, and could only think, in his last moments, how he had squandered them all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Last Goodbyes

Rhaegar was the sort of man who believed goodbyes were for those who lacked imagination, who had no hope or spirit. He liked to play a game as a child, use it as an insult to those he particularly disliked. He would bid them goodbye, secretly hoping that he would never see them again. As he grew older his goodbye’s became more sincere, and with one or two people he prayed for the opposite, that he would see them again soon, that their parting would not be the last time they ever saw each other. In the last days of his life, Rhaegar had the chance to say goodbye to ten people, and could only think, in his last moments, how he had squandered them all.  


**The Queen**  
Everytime he saw his Mother, Rhaegar thought she looked more and more beautiful. He knew that wasn’t true. If he truly allowed himself to think about it, each time she looked worse, like a defeated woman. As a child, his Mother had been more a hero than his Father had been, and Rhaegar had been incredibly close with her. She understood grief better than his Father did, and they shared sadness together, from time to time, unlifting the burden from one another. Rhaella always overcame her grievances, her melancholy, she always came out stronger than ever. She had been covered in bruises during their last meeting, had moved away when her eldest son went to touch her cheek. He knew where the bruises had come from. He knew who had put them there. But he didn’t understand why. He had never understood what possessed a man to harm a woman, to rape and ruin the greatest thing he may ever hold in his hand. Dragons, gold, lands, what good were they without someone to love you? Rhaegar had embraced his Mother, had let her kiss his forehead, and had promised to return safe and well, had assured her that he would win the battle at ease. He told her they needed to talk when he returned, something he echoed to nearly everyone he spoke with, in his last days. Changes had to be made. In their family, in their Kingdom, in his own life. He would see his Mother strong again, he was sure of it.

**Viserys Targaryen**  
Rhaegar had attempted to say goodbye to the little prince in the easiest way possible, to promise him that there was nothing to fear, that no Rebels would ever reach the gates of the Kings Landing. He doesn’t know if he’s surprised at what little interest the young prince pays to him and his soft words. They were worlds alike, different in so many ways. Rhaegar was his mothers, but Viserys was his Fathers. Each passing year it became obvious, even now, still nothing but a child, he resembled Aerys in ways Rhaegar never did. He wasn’t sure if it frightened him, or if he was just worrying over nothing. He resolved to spend more time with his younger brother, and persuade Viserys in turn to stop spending his days hovering around the throne, or listening to their Father’s stories. It did the boy no good. The last thing Viserys asks him, is if Rhaegar dies, will that make him the future King. Perhaps his brother is just curious, perhaps the words are just musings of a child, but they unsettle him all the way to his death. He knew the Throne was his birthright, that one day he would become King, but he had never lusted for the crown, had never stared at that throne of swords with desperation in his eyes. He didn’t dream of being King, he didn’t base his whole existence around the fact. He was more than just the Prince of Dragonstone. But he feared greatly, that Viserys might think himself as nothing more than the Future King of The Seven Kingdoms, and he couldn’t help wonder, if he had to fear the small boy, just as much as he had to fear Robert Baratheon.

**The King**  
Rhaegar had not found himself friendly with his Father for some time now. They had never been truly close, the King had too many duties to be truly close with his children, as as Rhaegar grew, so did his Father’s madness. He knew he had done a great wrong by taking Lyanna from her home, for starting the whole affair. But he also knew that if he had spoken with her Father, her brother, if he had been able to explain that they were in love, that events would have not transpired the way they did. By the time he learnt that Brandon Stark had roared his name in the Red Keep, the wolf was already dead with his Father. Rhaegar could have spoke with him. He could have even fought if he needed to; won and spared the Stark’s life, promising nothing but love and a good life for his sister. But instead his Father burned them. He robbed him of his chances to change things. He had done wrong himself, he had started a fight. But his Father had started the war. He says no words to him the day of the battle, only stops to stare at the King, sitting on the Iron Throne, clutching to the sides as if he worries the very winds themselves might try to steal it from him. Rhaegar loved his Father, as any son must. But he’s not sure if he loved him any more than that.

**Cersei Lannister**  
On the eve of the battle, Rhaegar had intended to write two letters. Perhaps, deep down, he knew he was going to die. After all, why else would he feel compelled to write letters to those who he had not seen in some time, to those who he had once held dear, yet had flown from his life. The first letter he writes, is to Cersei. He thinks it foolish, he can hardly call them friends, they were just two people, people meant to be, in another life, another time. The Fates had pushed them away from each other some time ago, and he had certainly never written her before. He likes to think, she would have been a perfect bride. He wonders if he had married her instead of Elia, if he would have still found himself hopelessly in love with Lyanna. It’s not something he can possibly know. And yet still he writes to her, thanking her for being such good company in their earlier years, hoping that she finds herself a husband worthy, and that one day their children can play together in Kings Landing. He recalls the time he had caught her crying over his music, and how she had been the most beautiful girl in the hall. He finishes his letter with his love, but he never brings it to a raven, instead burning the letter in the fire. He doesn’t want to cause more troubles for himself with women, thinking on what could have been.

**Jon Connington**  
The second letter he pens is to his best friend, though this one, he never intends to send at all. Jon had fled from  Westeros after his failed battle at Stoney Sept. Not even Rhaegar could plead his Father to reconsider. He knew Job had done his best in the battle, he did he best in everything. Of all the young Lords who had attempted to call Rhaegar friend, Jon was the only one who truly succeeded in doing so. He was strong and brave, and his jokes, while never enough to make him laugh (he seldom did at all), they always brought a small smile to his face. Jon had been his confidante, had been his right hand, would have been his Hand when he took the throne. He knew well of Jon’s affections of him. Raegar writes of going to Griffin’s roost with him, the months they had spent there, much of it alone together, Jon trying to be one of the many who wanted to pull him out the darkness that shrouded his mind. He thanks Jon for being such a firm friend, for sparring with him, studying alongside him, giving him time alone when he had no desire for company. He thanks Jon for his efforts at Stoney Sept, apologises that the man had to be exiled because of his actions. He hopes to see him again one day, he hopes the man finds love and peace in his new life. He doesn’t burn this letter. But he has nowhere to send it. He has it left on his desk, with the intent to ask Varys to locate him, once he has returned from battle.

**Lyanna Stark**  
Rhaegar says goodbye to Lyanna with a thousand kisses, only wishing on his journey back to Kings Landing that it had been a thousand more. His mistress, his she-wolf is safe up in the tower, guarded from anyone who may seek to harm her without him there. Very few knew of her location, and he trusted his guards, his men. He had awoken early to head back to Kings Landing, head off to fight, as was his duty. He kisses Lyanna from her crown to her toes, promising to return. He tells her when he does he will make changes, he will find a way to right his Fathers wrongs. He promises to take her to King’s Landing, tells her that he hopes her and Elia will become friends, that they can find a way to live together, all in happiness. He doesn’t want to lose either women, they are both so important to him, he loves them both so much. He promises Lyanna that they will have ten children, listens to her laugh as he kisses her stomach. He talks of her children playing with his son and daughter, one big happy family. He appreciates how she doesn’t tell him that his dreams are fanciful and foolish. She just nods and smiles back at him. The only time he has smiled all year is here in the tower with her. But he doesn’t always smile. He weeps and apologises for locking her away, for not letting her run free as wolves should. She was always there to kiss them away. But he doesn’t weep today, because he might worry, but if the worst should happen, he doesn’t want her last memory to be of him and his tears. He plays her a song he wrote just for her, that only she would ever hear, and lets her help him dress, forces himself to tear away from her. He assures her he will send ravens every day in excess, that the tower will fill with letters and poems to read, until he returns for her, to bring her home to the Red Keep, where she belongs.

**Elia Martell**  
The hardest person to see before he leaves for battle is Elia, the woman he had done wrong in far too many ways. She loved him and he loved her, incredibly so. She meant everything to him and yet, he had gone about everything all wrong. But she had forgiven him for his mistakes, had not complained when he had left her with her friends and their children, and gone off to his love nest to see his wolf. She should have broken his nose. A few times along the road he thought she might, if it were not for her health. There had been days when he had wanted to do it for her. She was better on the day before he rode into battle, had that warm fire in her eyes that he had seen the first day he met her. He keeps his arms tight around her waist when he embraces her, he buries his face in her shoulder and wonders just for a moment, if it would be so terrible if he just stayed here, with his wife and his children. But he couldn’t. This war had started because of his actions, because of his love for Lyanna. He could not dishonour his family by refusing to ride into battle to rectify his mistakes. He presses their foreheads together and promises to make it right, swears to never dishonour her again, to involve her in every part of his life. He tells her they will talk when he returns, and tries to ignore the worry in his brides eyes.

**Rhaeyns & Aegon Targaryen**  
His children fascinated him, growing so big and strong every day. He had been present nearly every day in Rhaeyns first year, but not for Aegons. He regrets in now, the boy bouncing on his knee as he plays with his fathers fingers. His hair was so light, his eyes so purple, he is sure that he is right, that his son is truly the prince that was promised. And Rhaeyns, playing in front of him, looking just like her Mother, laughing as she chases her kitten around the room, oblivious to the fact that in a few hours her Father will ride off to battle. He thinks on the innocence of children, on how to them, the world is full of magic and wonder, of happiness and laughter. Though he cannot remember his own childhood being like that. He can’t remember one instance of being a truly happy child. He listens to Rhaeyns talk about Balerion as if the cat was the most important creature in all of the Seven Kingdoms. If it was true to his daughter, it was true to him. He resolves to spend more time with them upon his return, and tells his children how much he loves them, how important they are. They would grow up to be such fine people, a powerful Prince and a strong Princess. He wanted people to sing stories about his children for centuries. They were his legacy, much more than the Iron Throne ever would be.

**Jaime Lannister**  
The last person Rhaegar speaks to before he rides is Jaime Lannister, perhaps his favourite of all the Kingsguard. The man was brave and loyal, and he’s grateful that it’s him who meets him out in the yard as he’s preparing his horse. The man was brave, so brave that he wanted to ride to the Trident, confident that together they would secure an easy win. Jaime was an excellent fighter, one he trusted completely. He regrets that he can’t bring him out to battle, but he assures him that the best he can do for him is stay here, to protect the King, as he has sworn to do. Jaime will be one of the first people he talks to when he returns. He will use his council, among others, to try and repair the Kingdom, to find a way around his Father’s madness and his own mistakes. There was plenty to be done, and he was no fool, he knew he could not do it on his own. After the battle had been won, he would need all the help he could get.

**Robert Baratheon**  
Rhaegar Targaryen could have never predicted that the last persons face he would see, would be Robert Baratheons. Or rather his helm, and those eyes, so full of hate. If circumstances were different, this would have never happened. Brandon would have been persuaded to let Lyanna stay with him, and Robert would spend a great time licking his wounds, before resuming his drinking and whoring, and then eventually, taking a different wife. They were ill suited, anyone could see that. She was a strong, independant woman, who deserved nothing but complete adoration. Robert was not the type to give that to anyone, not even the greatest beauty the North had ever seen. If Rhaegar had gotten his way, they would have never met on the battlefield. Rhaegar had fought hard, despite the fact that he knew he was not the best warrior in the world. But he had things to fight for. Each swing of his sword was for Lyanna and her choice. It was for Elia’s health and happiness, for his children, for his mother, for his brother. But it had not been enough. He knew he was dead before the hammer had even struck him. He missed a vital swing, missed the chance to block, and saw the mighty warhammer coming for him, making contact with his chest, crushing his armour, his ribs, sending the rubies of hs armour flying into the water, along with himself. He can’t help but think as he sees them scatter, how beautiful rubies would look woven into Elia’s hair. But Robert is not his final goodbye. Lyanna is. darkness swimming in his vision for the last time, finally ready to claim him for good, her name leaves his lips in a final rasping breath. It’s not a call for her, not even a cry of love. It’s an apology. Because without him Lyanna is lost, she is Robert’s bride. Without him his children has no Father, his wife has no husband. Without him, all the dragons are dead. He truly is sorry. For every mistake, for every time he had hurt another, and how even in death, people would hurt for him. His eyes close for the final time there, in the water, clad in night-black armour. It’s no death for a musician, for a poet, for a man so soft and beautiful that women wept when he sang. But it was the death the Gods gave him.


End file.
